Precious Moments
by saltythetrain
Summary: Dobby accidentally summons Smeagol to Hogwarts. Friendship and more follows.
1. Chapter 1

The tunnel ahead was new to Smeagol. Curious. He'd explored all the tunnels in this goblin-infested cave system beneath the Misty Mountains, and new tunnels didn't simply _appear_. Whatecer. He forged ahead. Maybe the treacherous thief who'd stolen the Precious had escaped this way.

The tunnel was long and winding, tunneling seemingly for miles without branching. The tunnel rose and rose and rose until Smeagol was sure he must be higher than the mountain itself, yet still he trekked in search of the asshole that absconded with his Precious. He would eat the hobbit's eyeballs first, then the soft flesh of his elbows. Smeagol began compiling a list of edible body parts in his head with a vengeful glee, ranking them by Most Heinous to Consume Whilst Smacking One's Lips Loudly and Describing Them to the Victim.

_Bellybutton._

_Achilles Tendon._

_A Kidney._

_The Butt._

Smeagol had a lot of free time over the last few centuries.

The shitty cave stone gradually gave way to worked stone, then smooth marble, then a linoleum tiled floor and wallpapered walls with a gruesome cannibalism motif above a tasteful woodpanel wainscotting. Candles set in sconces lit the passageway, sparse at first and gradually increasing in frequency until an unbroken line of wax-fueled flames emerged from wicks set densely together in a kilometers-long chunk of candle that followed the curves of the tunnel - no, hallway now. Curiouser.

The hallway ended in a big fucking room with no windows. Clusters of finely made furniture dotted the floorscape like gossiping women. Smeagol had never encountered such opulence, neither living in the damp hellhole goblin cave nor even before, when he lived in a shed out back his uncle's house until forced to flee because of what was obviously a misunderstanding when Smeagol's cousin refused to give Smeagol the Precious and Smeagol accidentally murdered him.

Smeagol stood around like a chump for a few minutes before the door (there hadn't been a door there just before, had there?) opened and some kind of fucked-up goblin walked in. The goblin was wearing a sack with head- and arm-holes and a single sock on his left foot. "Hello?" asked the goblin. "Is anybody in here? Dobby thought he heard something. He was asking the Room of Requirement for someone to help since Master has freed him but being free got boring after five minutes and Harry Potter left for summer vacay."


	2. Chapter 2: Dobby Plays a Prank

Smeagol didn't know what Dobby was talking about, but decided to go along with it. Dobby said he was here to help? Okay.

"Pardon me, Dobby, buy I'm looking for the Precious. Have you seen it?"

Dobby was intrigued by the hideous, fish-scented, loincloth-wearing guy the Room of Requirement had produced for him. "Dobby does not know what the Precious is, though Dobby would be happy to help!"

"Well, the Precious is a ring, small, solid gold, and definitely belongs to me, Smeagol. It was given to me for my birthday and I've lost it. I'm afraid the whole situation is rather embarassing. Can you help me to find the Precious?"

Dobby thought that naming a ring was pretty dumb, but pretty much everything wizards did was dumb. Ever since his race had allowed themselves to be shackled into servitude by the apes to alleviate their eternal boredom, he had been beseiged be one stupid order after another. Whatever. Fucking with this diminutive deformed wizard while pretending find a ring sounded like excellent practice. He'd asked the Room of Requirement for a chance to test his cunning, and here it was. "Would Mr Smeagol say that finding the precious is... nothing less than his heart's deepest desire?"

Smeagol nodded.

Dobby laughed. "Perhaps, then, it is in Dobby's cloaca! All sorts of wondrous things find their way there. Here, take a look!" With that, Dobby doffed his pillowcase and bent over.

Smeagol was suspicious. This was incredibly stupid. However, he weighed the cost of peering into Dobby's cloaca against the potential benefit of actually finding the Precious. Even accounting for the heinous improbability of finding the Precious, it was a minor inconvenience and he had a crippling emotional dependency on the Precious.

"Okay, Dobby, dilate your cloaca and let me have a look. I hope this is not a trick."

Dobby, his grin hidden by his ass, torso, and the majority of his head, complied. He had a trick up his sleeve - or rather, his cloaca. Last year when Dumbledore needed to hide the Mirror of Erised, he'd realised the Lucius Malfoy's House Elf's cloaca was the last place anyone would look, and placed an Undetectable Extension Charm on Dobby's cloaca in order to hid the Mirror.

Smeagol peered deep into the dilated flesh-hallway. It went much deeper than he would have thought possible. But there! In the deep darkness, he saw it. He saw the Precious!

"I see the Precious!" said Smeagol. He thought he did, but he didn't really. It was the Mirror of Erised tricking him. But he was a greedy shit and shoved his calloused, cave-worn hand right up Dobby's cloaca. The hole clamped down before his wrist even cleared Dobby's sphincter and stuck there.

"Mr Smeagol!" said Dobby, "Dobby admonishes you!"

"Please give me the Precious, I would like it very much!" said Smeagol.

"Dobby thinks it might be further than Mr Smeagol can reach, but Dobby is willing to let Mr Smeagol try. But Mr Smeagol must promise not to be rough!"

"Of course," said Smeagol. "I do apologize for that earlier rudeness. Now, if you could unstick my hand, it's currently both ensconced in your cloaca and not wrapped around the Precious. I'd like to remedy one, if not both, of those problems."

Dobby re-dilated his cloaca, allowing the foolish, ugly wizard to extend his bony arm further and further into his cloaca dimension. He laughed to himself a bit in his obnoxious House Elf titter. Mr Smeagol would never be able to reach the Mirror and call his bluff.

Smeagol was shoulder-deep in Dobby (which was impossible, he reflected, but he was reaching for a ring that turned him invisible, so: fair). He reached and grasped and flailed his arm, the House Elf gleefully waving around in the air. A gentle peristalsis gripped Smeagol's arm and began pulling it in further, forcing it up against the knob-like calcified protrusions lining the entrance to Dobby's cloaca. Smeagol became angry and began choking Dobby with his other hand, the one not embedded in Dobby's only lower orifice, but it just seemed to excite the elf further.


End file.
